The Innocents Abroad, by Mark Twain

Chapter 51

Nazareth is wonderfully interesting because the town has an air about it of being precisely as Jesus
left it, and one finds himself saying, all the time, “The boy Jesus has stood in this doorway — has played in that
street — has touched these stones with his hands — has rambled over these chalky hills.” Whoever shall write the
boyhood of Jesus ingeniously will make a book which will possess a vivid interest for young and old alike. I judge so
from the greater interest we found in Nazareth than any of our speculations upon Capernaum and the Sea of Galilee gave
rise to. It was not possible, standing by the Sea of Galilee, to frame more than a vague, far-away idea of the majestic
Personage who walked upon the crested waves as if they had been solid earth, and who touched the dead and they rose up
and spoke. I read among my notes, now, with a new interest, some sentences from an edition of 1621 of the Apocryphal
New Testament.

[Extract.] “Christ, kissed by a bride made dumb by sorcerers, cures her. A leprous girl cured by the water in which
the infant Christ was washed, and becomes the servant of Joseph and Mary. The leprous son of a Prince cured in like
manner.

“A young man who had been bewitched and turned into a mule, miraculously cured by the infant Savior being put on his
back, and is married to the girl who had been cured of leprosy. Whereupon the bystanders praise God.

“Chapter 16. Christ miraculously widens or contracts gates, milk-pails, sieves or boxes, not properly made by
Joseph, he not being skillful at his carpenter’s trade. The King of Jerusalem gives Joseph an order for a throne.
Joseph works on it for two years and makes it two spans too short. The King being angry with him, Jesus comforts him —
commands him to pull one side of the throne while he pulls the other, and brings it to its proper dimensions.

“Chapter 19. Jesus, charged with throwing a boy from the roof of a house, miraculously causes the dead boy to speak
and acquit him; fetches water for his mother, breaks the pitcher and miraculously gathers the water in his mantle and
brings it home.

“Sent to a schoolmaster, refuses to tell his letters, and the schoolmaster going to whip him, his hand withers.”

Further on in this quaint volume of rejected gospels is an epistle of St. Clement to the Corinthians, which was used
in the churches and considered genuine fourteen or fifteen hundred years ago. In it this account of the fabled phoenix
occurs:

“1. Let us consider that wonderful type of the resurrection, which is seen in the Eastern countries, that is to say,
in Arabia.

“2. There is a certain bird called a phoenix. Of this there is never but one at a time, and that lives five hundred
years. And when the time of its dissolution draws near, that it must die, it makes itself a nest of frankincense, and
myrrh, and other spices, into which, when its time is fulfilled, it enters and dies.

“3. But its flesh, putrefying, breeds a certain worm, which, being nourished by the juice of the dead bird, brings
forth feathers; and when it is grown to a perfect state, it takes up the nest in which the bones of its parent lie, and
carries it from Arabia into Egypt, to a city called Heliopolis:

“4. And flying in open day in the sight of all men, lays it upon the altar of the sun, and so returns from whence it
came.

“5. The priests then search into the records of the time, and find that it returned precisely at the end of five
hundred years.”

Business is business, and there is nothing like punctuality, especially in a phoenix.

The few chapters relating to the infancy of the Saviour contain many things which seem frivolous and not worth
preserving. A large part of the remaining portions of the book read like good Scripture, however. There is one verse
that ought not to have been rejected, because it so evidently prophetically refers to the general run of Congresses of
the United States:

“199. They carry themselves high, and as prudent men; and though they are fools, yet would seem to be teachers.”

I have set these extracts down, as I found them. Everywhere among the cathedrals of France and Italy, one finds
traditions of personages that do not figure in the Bible, and of miracles that are not mentioned in its pages. But they
are all in this Apocryphal New Testament, and though they have been ruled out of our modern Bible, it is claimed that
they were accepted gospel twelve or fifteen centuries ago, and ranked as high in credit as any. One needs to read this
book before he visits those venerable cathedrals, with their treasures of tabooed and forgotten tradition.

They imposed another pirate upon us at Nazareth — another invincible Arab guard. We took our last look at the city,
clinging like a whitewashed wasp’s nest to the hill-side, and at eight o’clock in the morning departed. We dismounted
and drove the horses down a bridle-path which I think was fully as crooked as a corkscrew, which I know to be as steep
as the downward sweep of a rainbow, and which I believe to be the worst piece of road in the geography, except one in
the Sandwich Islands, which I remember painfully, and possibly one or two mountain trails in the Sierra Nevadas.

Often, in this narrow path the horse had to poise himself nicely on a rude stone step and then drop his fore-feet
over the edge and down something more than half his own height. This brought his nose near the ground, while his tail
pointed up toward the sky somewhere, and gave him the appearance of preparing to stand on his head. A horse cannot look
dignified in this position. We accomplished the long descent at last, and trotted across the great Plain of
Esdraelon.

Some of us will be shot before we finish this pilgrimage. The pilgrims read “Nomadic Life” and keep themselves in a
constant state of Quixotic heroism. They have their hands on their pistols all the time, and every now and then, when
you least expect it, they snatch them out and take aim at Bedouins who are not visible, and draw their knives and make
savage passes at other Bedouins who do not exist. I am in deadly peril always, for these spasms are sudden and
irregular, and of course I cannot tell when to be getting out of the way. If I am accidentally murdered, some time,
during one of these romantic frenzies of the pilgrims, Mr. Grimes must be rigidly held to answer as an accessory before
the fact. If the pilgrims would take deliberate aim and shoot at a man, it would be all right and proper — because that
man would not be in any danger; but these random assaults are what I object to. I do not wish to see any more places
like Esdraelon, where the ground is level and people can gallop. It puts melodramatic nonsense into the pilgrims’
heads. All at once, when one is jogging along stupidly in the sun, and thinking about something ever so far away, here
they come, at a stormy gallop, spurring and whooping at those ridgy old sore-backed plugs till their heels fly higher
than their heads, and as they whiz by, out comes a little potato-gun of a revolver, there is a startling little pop,
and a small pellet goes singing through the air. Now that I have begun this pilgrimage, I intend to go through with it,
though sooth to say, nothing but the most desperate valor has kept me to my purpose up to the present time. I do not
mind Bedouins, — I am not afraid of them; because neither Bedouins nor ordinary Arabs have shown any disposition to
harm us, but I do feel afraid of my own comrades.

Arriving at the furthest verge of the Plain, we rode a little way up a hill and found ourselves at Endor, famous for
its witch. Her descendants are there yet. They were the wildest horde of half-naked savages we have found thus far.
They swarmed out of mud bee-hives; out of hovels of the dry-goods box pattern; out of gaping caves under shelving
rocks; out of crevices in the earth. In five minutes the dead solitude and silence of the place were no more, and a
begging, screeching, shouting mob were struggling about the horses’ feet and blocking the way. “Bucksheesh! bucksheesh!
bucksheesh! howajji, bucksheesh!” It was Magdala over again, only here the glare from the infidel eyes was fierce and
full of hate. The population numbers two hundred and fifty, and more than half the citizens live in caves in the rock.
Dirt, degradation and savagery are Endor’s specialty. We say no more about Magdala and Deburieh now. Endor heads the
list. It is worse than any Indian ‘campoodie’. The hill is barren, rocky, and forbidding. No sprig of grass is visible,
and only one tree. This is a fig-tree, which maintains a precarious footing among the rocks at the mouth of the dismal
cavern once occupied by the veritable Witch of Endor. In this cavern, tradition says, Saul, the king, sat at midnight,
and stared and trembled, while the earth shook, the thunders crashed among the hills, and out of the midst of fire and
smoke the spirit of the dead prophet rose up and confronted him. Saul had crept to this place in the darkness, while
his army slept, to learn what fate awaited him in the morrow’s battle. He went away a sad man, to meet disgrace and
death.

A spring trickles out of the rock in the gloomy recesses of the cavern, and we were thirsty. The citizens of Endor
objected to our going in there. They do not mind dirt; they do not mind rags; they do not mind vermin; they do not mind
barbarous ignorance and savagery; they do not mind a reasonable degree of starvation, but they do like to be pure and
holy before their god, whoever he may be, and therefore they shudder and grow almost pale at the idea of Christian lips
polluting a spring whose waters must descend into their sanctified gullets. We had no wanton desire to wound even their
feelings or trample upon their prejudices, but we were out of water, thus early in the day, and were burning up with
thirst. It was at this time, and under these circumstances, that I framed an aphorism which has already become
celebrated. I said: “Necessity knows no law.” We went in and drank.

We got away from the noisy wretches, finally, dropping them in squads and couples as we filed over the hills — the
aged first, the infants next, the young girls further on; the strong men ran beside us a mile, and only left when they
had secured the last possible piastre in the way of bucksheesh.

In an hour, we reached Nain, where Christ raised the widow’s son to life. Nain is Magdala on a small scale. It has
no population of any consequence. Within a hundred yards of it is the original graveyard, for aught I know; the
tombstones lie flat on the ground, which is Jewish fashion in Syria. I believe the Moslems do not allow them to have
upright tombstones. A Moslem grave is usually roughly plastered over and whitewashed, and has at one end an upright
projection which is shaped into exceedingly rude attempts at ornamentation. In the cities, there is often no appearance
of a grave at all; a tall, slender marble tombstone, elaborately lettered, gilded and painted, marks the burial place,
and this is surmounted by a turban, so carved and shaped as to signify the dead man’s rank in life.

They showed a fragment of ancient wall which they said was one side of the gate out of which the widow’s dead son
was being brought so many centuries ago when Jesus met the procession:

“Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother,
and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.

“And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said, Weep not.

“And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee,
arise.

“And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.

“And there came a fear on all. And they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and That
God hath visited his people.”

A little mosque stands upon the spot which tradition says was occupied by the widow’s dwelling. Two or three aged
Arabs sat about its door. We entered, and the pilgrims broke specimens from the foundation walls, though they had to
touch, and even step, upon the “praying carpets” to do it. It was almost the same as breaking pieces from the hearts of
those old Arabs. To step rudely upon the sacred praying mats, with booted feet — a thing not done by any Arab — was to
inflict pain upon men who had not offended us in any way. Suppose a party of armed foreigners were to enter a village
church in America and break ornaments from the altar railings for curiosities, and climb up and walk upon the Bible and
the pulpit cushions? However, the cases are different. One is the profanation of a temple of our faith — the other only
the profanation of a pagan one.

We descended to the Plain again, and halted a moment at a well — of Abraham’s time, no doubt. It was in a desert
place. It was walled three feet above ground with squared and heavy blocks of stone, after the manner of Bible
pictures. Around it some camels stood, and others knelt. There was a group of sober little donkeys with naked, dusky
children clambering about them, or sitting astride their rumps, or pulling their tails. Tawny, black-eyed, barefooted
maids, arrayed in rags and adorned with brazen armlets and pinchbeck ear-rings, were poising water-jars upon their
heads, or drawing water from the well. A flock of sheep stood by, waiting for the shepherds to fill the hollowed stones
with water, so that they might drink — stones which, like those that walled the well, were worn smooth and deeply
creased by the chafing chins of a hundred generations of thirsty animals. Picturesque Arabs sat upon the ground, in
groups, and solemnly smoked their long-stemmed chibouks. Other Arabs were filling black hog-skins with water — skins
which, well filled, and distended with water till the short legs projected painfully out of the proper line, looked
like the corpses of hogs bloated by drowning. Here was a grand Oriental picture which I had worshiped a thousand times
in soft, rich steel engravings! But in the engraving there was no desolation; no dirt; no rags; no fleas; no ugly
features; no sore eyes; no feasting flies; no besotted ignorance in the countenances; no raw places on the donkeys’
backs; no disagreeable jabbering in unknown tongues; no stench of camels; no suggestion that a couple of tons of powder
placed under the party and touched off would heighten the effect and give to the scene a genuine interest and a charm
which it would always be pleasant to recall, even though a man lived a thousand years.

Oriental scenes look best in steel engravings. I cannot be imposed upon any more by that picture of the Queen of
Sheba visiting Solomon. I shall say to myself, You look fine, Madam but your feet are not clean and you smell like a
camel.

Presently a wild Arab in charge of a camel train recognized an old friend in Ferguson, and they ran and fell upon
each other’s necks and kissed each other’s grimy, bearded faces upon both cheeks. It explained instantly a something
which had always seemed to me only a farfetched Oriental figure of speech. I refer to the circumstance of Christ’s
rebuking a Pharisee, or some such character, and reminding him that from him he had received no “kiss of welcome.”

It did not seem reasonable to me that men should kiss each other, but I am aware, now, that they did. There was
reason in it, too. The custom was natural and proper; because people must kiss, and a man would not be likely to kiss
one of the women of this country of his own free will and accord. One must travel, to learn. Every day, now, old
Scriptural phrases that never possessed any significance for me before, take to themselves a meaning.

We journeyed around the base of the mountain — “Little Hermon," — past the old Crusaders’ castle of El Fuleh, and
arrived at Shunem. This was another Magdala, to a fraction, frescoes and all. Here, tradition says, the prophet Samuel
was born, and here the Shunamite woman built a little house upon the city wall for the accommodation of the prophet
Elisha. Elisha asked her what she expected in return. It was a perfectly natural question, for these people are and
were in the habit of proffering favors and services and then expecting and begging for pay. Elisha knew them well. He
could not comprehend that any body should build for him that humble little chamber for the mere sake of old friendship,
and with no selfish motive whatever. It used to seem a very impolite, not to say a rude, question, for Elisha to ask
the woman, but it does not seem so to me now. The woman said she expected nothing. Then for her goodness and her
unselfishness, he rejoiced her heart with the news that she should bear a son. It was a high reward — but she would not
have thanked him for a daughter — daughters have always been unpopular here. The son was born, grew, waxed strong,
died. Elisha restored him to life in Shunem.

We found here a grove of lemon trees — cool, shady, hung with fruit. One is apt to overestimate beauty when it is
rare, but to me this grove seemed very beautiful. It was beautiful. I do not overestimate it. I must always remember
Shunem gratefully, as a place which gave to us this leafy shelter after our long, hot ride. We lunched, rested,
chatted, smoked our pipes an hour, and then mounted and moved on.

As we trotted across the Plain of Jezreel, we met half a dozen Digger Indians (Bedouins) with very long spears in
their hands, cavorting around on old crowbait horses, and spearing imaginary enemies; whooping, and fluttering their
rags in the wind, and carrying on in every respect like a pack of hopeless lunatics. At last, here were the “wild, free
sons of the desert, speeding over the plain like the wind, on their beautiful Arabian mares” we had read so much about
and longed so much to see! Here were the “picturesque costumes!” This was the “gallant spectacle!” Tatterdemalion
vagrants — cheap braggadocio — “Arabian mares” spined and necked like the ichthyosaurus in the museum, and humped and
cornered like a dromedary! To glance at the genuine son of the desert is to take the romance out of him forever — to
behold his steed is to long in charity to strip his harness off and let him fall to pieces.

Presently we came to a ruinous old town on a hill, the same being the ancient Jezreel.

Ahab, King of Samaria, (this was a very vast kingdom, for those days, and was very nearly half as large as Rhode
Island) dwelt in the city of Jezreel, which was his capital. Near him lived a man by the name of Naboth, who had a
vineyard. The King asked him for it, and when he would not give it, offered to buy it. But Naboth refused to sell it.
In those days it was considered a sort of crime to part with one’s inheritance at any price — and even if a man did
part with it, it reverted to himself or his heirs again at the next jubilee year. So this spoiled child of a King went
and lay down on the bed with his face to the wall, and grieved sorely. The Queen, a notorious character in those days,
and whose name is a by-word and a reproach even in these, came in and asked him wherefore he sorrowed, and he told her.
Jezebel said she could secure the vineyard; and she went forth and forged letters to the nobles and wise men, in the
King’s name, and ordered them to proclaim a fast and set Naboth on high before the people, and suborn two witnesses to
swear that he had blasphemed. They did it, and the people stoned the accused by the city wall, and he died. Then
Jezebel came and told the King, and said, Behold, Naboth is no more — rise up and seize the vineyard. So Ahab seized
the vineyard, and went into it to possess it. But the Prophet Elijah came to him there and read his fate to him, and
the fate of Jezebel; and said that in the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, dogs should also lick his blood
— and he said, likewise, the dogs should eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel. In the course of time, the King was killed
in battle, and when his chariot wheels were washed in the pool of Samaria, the dogs licked the blood. In after years,
Jehu, who was King of Israel, marched down against Jezreel, by order of one of the Prophets, and administered one of
those convincing rebukes so common among the people of those days: he killed many kings and their subjects, and as he
came along he saw Jezebel, painted and finely dressed, looking out of a window, and ordered that she be thrown down to
him. A servant did it, and Jehu’s horse trampled her under foot. Then Jehu went in and sat down to dinner; and
presently he said, Go and bury this cursed woman, for she is a King’s daughter. The spirit of charity came upon him too
late, however, for the prophecy had already been fulfilled — the dogs had eaten her, and they “found no more of her
than the skull, and the feet, and the palms of her hands.”

Ahab, the late King, had left a helpless family behind him, and Jehu killed seventy of the orphan sons. Then he
killed all the relatives, and teachers, and servants and friends of the family, and rested from his labors, until he
was come near to Samaria, where he met forty-two persons and asked them who they were; they said they were brothers of
the King of Judah. He killed them. When he got to Samaria, he said he would show his zeal for the Lord; so he gathered
all the priests and people together that worshiped Baal, pretending that he was going to adopt that worship and offer
up a great sacrifice; and when they were all shut up where they could not defend themselves, he caused every person of
them to be killed. Then Jehu, the good missionary, rested from his labors once more.

We went back to the valley, and rode to the Fountain of Ain Jelud. They call it the Fountain of Jezreel, usually. It
is a pond about one hundred feet square and four feet deep, with a stream of water trickling into it from under an
overhanging ledge of rocks. It is in the midst of a great solitude. Here Gideon pitched his camp in the old times;
behind Shunem lay the “Midianites, the Amalekites, and the Children of the East,” who were “as grasshoppers for
multitude; both they and their camels were without number, as the sand by the sea-side for multitude.” Which means that
there were one hundred and thirty-five thousand men, and that they had transportation service accordingly.

Gideon, with only three hundred men, surprised them in the night, and stood by and looked on while they butchered
each other until a hundred and twenty thousand lay dead on the field.

We camped at Jenin before night, and got up and started again at one o’clock in the morning. Somewhere towards
daylight we passed the locality where the best authenticated tradition locates the pit into which Joseph’s brethren
threw him, and about noon, after passing over a succession of mountain tops, clad with groves of fig and olive trees,
with the Mediterranean in sight some forty miles away, and going by many ancient Biblical cities whose inhabitants
glowered savagely upon our Christian procession, and were seemingly inclined to practice on it with stones, we came to
the singularly terraced and unlovely hills that betrayed that we were out of Galilee and into Samaria at last.

We climbed a high hill to visit the city of Samaria, where the woman may have hailed from who conversed with Christ
at Jacob’s Well, and from whence, no doubt, came also the celebrated Good Samaritan. Herod the Great is said to have
made a magnificent city of this place, and a great number of coarse limestone columns, twenty feet high and two feet
through, that are almost guiltless of architectural grace of shape and ornament, are pointed out by many authors as
evidence of the fact. They would not have been considered handsome in ancient Greece, however.

The inhabitants of this camp are particularly vicious, and stoned two parties of our pilgrims a day or two ago who
brought about the difficulty by showing their revolvers when they did not intend to use them — a thing which is deemed
bad judgment in the Far West, and ought certainly to be so considered any where. In the new Territories, when a man
puts his hand on a weapon, he knows that he must use it; he must use it instantly or expect to be shot down where he
stands. Those pilgrims had been reading Grimes.

There was nothing for us to do in Samaria but buy handfuls of old Roman coins at a franc a dozen, and look at a
dilapidated church of the Crusaders and a vault in it which once contained the body of John the Baptist. This relic was
long ago carried away to Genoa.

Samaria stood a disastrous siege, once, in the days of Elisha, at the hands of the King of Syria. Provisions reached
such a figure that “an ass’ head was sold for eighty pieces of silver and the fourth part of a cab of dove’s dung for
five pieces of silver.”

An incident recorded of that heavy time will give one a very good idea of the distress that prevailed within these
crumbling walls. As the King was walking upon the battlements one day, “a woman cried out, saying, Help, my lord, O
King! And the King said, What aileth thee? and she answered, This woman said unto me, Give thy son, that we may eat him
to-day, and we will eat my son to-morrow. So we boiled my son, and did eat him; and I said unto her on the next day,
Give thy son that we may eat him; and she hath hid her son.”

The prophet Elisha declared that within four and twenty hours the prices of food should go down to nothing, almost,
and it was so. The Syrian army broke camp and fled, for some cause or other, the famine was relieved from without, and
many a shoddy speculator in dove’s dung and ass’s meat was ruined.

We were glad to leave this hot and dusty old village and hurry on. At two o’clock we stopped to lunch and rest at
ancient Shechem, between the historic Mounts of Gerizim and Ebal, where in the old times the books of the law, the
curses and the blessings, were read from the heights to the Jewish multitudes below.